Setting: A warm, humid Boston day. Exterior. TTsumibishi is outside cleaning up the garage. Forced Performance box is on the ground with a ball bearing turbo in it, waiting for its owner to retrieve it.

I pulled the car out of the garage, as I knew WraithX was swinging by with his girlfriend, let's call her WraithY. Although, he should be WraithXY and she should be WraithXX. I digress.

Brand new ball bearing FP Red in the box is waiting to be picked up. I happyly hum the theme to Airwolf as my eyes consume the state of the garage floor: dirty, but not the kind of dirt that sticks -- all plastic dust from cutting up headlights. "It looks like I punted a kilo of coke in here", I think to myself, as I hear the familiar low frequency oscillating hum of a 4B11T in the distance. "Ah, company has arrived." I put on my best smile, as difficultly alien task for my facial muscles, something I need to work on if I'm ever going to own a van with FREE CANDY spray painted on the side.

I take the last bit of trash out of my car, a balled up Dunkin Donuts (like Tim Hortons for you Canadians, but not as awesome) straw wrapper out of the cup holder and lazily toss it into the trash, just in time to see a silver Evo X pull up next to my filthy beast of a ride. My forced, manic-looking smile greeting my guests with a quick wave.

"Hey guys!" I exclaim as WraithX turns off the motor. I notice the car rolling backwards as he opens the door. "You want to put the handbrake up?"

"It is up.", he says as he looks at the handbrake, and then pulls it to stop the car from rolling. This should have been the first indication of how the remainder of the day was to play out, but I was too thrilled to experience human interaction to notice.

We exchange pleasantries and whatnot, and look at the turbo in all of its clean, stock-turbo-like glory. The sealed Forced Performance bag caught the light just right to make the FP logo on the turbo inlet stand out, proud as a peacock of what it was -- a turbo inlet on a fantastic turbo.

After some time of general story-telling and car talk, WraithX has the great idea that he'd like to go for a ride in the newly built car. It was finally tuned a week and a day ago after an almost three week build process with a new turbo, down pipe, clutch, brand new 2.0L motor, driveshaft and many other goodies. It was a street beast and what I like to call the "Bringer Of Smiles". This fact was almost lost on us until WraithX and WraithY were about to leave, when the idea came up. I, of course, was agreeable to this. Any reason to drive the car, and more importantly procure coffee from Starbucks (like Tim Hortons for you Canadians, but much better, except still no Tim Bits), was reason enough for me.

I close the garage door as we all pile into my car. WraithX takes up position as navigator while WraithY sits in the back seat and occupies herself with her phone as we have "car talk" in the front seat. We slowly pull out of the driveway and into the street and proceed towards the highway. Mouse On Mars is playing through the stereo on low volume, its bleeps, bloops, and blorps tell me "Katang" is playing.

Approaching the highway, I decide to enter the onramp in such a way to keep the car's tachometer needle vibrating around 3800rpm, the sweet spot for instant boost-on-demand. I quickly accelerate to cruising speeds, keeping it well within the speed limit but quickly and effortlessly moving into position to coast up the highway for a few miles. The torque, as always, feels amazing, and the car sounds like a jet taking off. She is the Bringer Of Smiles, and I have gone six to midnight, as was the style at the time.

A few minutes later (what must've seemed an eternity to WraithY), we arrive at the Lexington Starbucks. Lexington is, of course, the very same Lexington from the "Battle Of Lexington" that the US soldiers fought against the British. Paul Revere is known for warning the soldiers before the battle. The only reason we won was because of the Lexington Starbucks -- we didn't need to stop to make our own tea, we grabbed it in a To Go cup. I digress.

While in Starbucks, WraithX decided he would like a tea, so he carefully picked out the exact bottle he wanted. Size, shape, flavor, color: all factors he considered dutifully while making his selection. I decided it was a nice day and he came all this way to pick up his turbo so I would pay. Perhaps the events that unfolded later were because he secretly did not like his selection and needed a way to show his rage in a constructive fashion. We may never know.

As I'm swirling a tendril of cream into my coconut-flavored 31-oz-and-aptly-misnamed-Trenta coffee, WraithX asks "So you want to let me drive back?" I knew he was part joking but I also knew that he would love to drive the car and feel the new motor and turbocharger for himself. I also knew he's owned an Evo for a while now, and knows how to handle one. I also know if he harms it in any way he will learn of my sadistic nature involving fire ants and 1/8" diameter plastic flex-tubes. Either way, it's win-win.

I hand him the key, as WraithY tells me something along the lines of me being very brave and I may live to regret this decision. Knowing WraithX for some time now, I know this to have a hint of truth to it, but I don't realize just how much until a few minutes later. I figured we might see some of the most common issues on the new setup with a new driver: not realizing where the clutch engages, not adjusting to the spool, underestimating the power curve and driving into a manure truck ala Back To The Future. I don't hate manure, I just dislike it.

We all, once again, pile into the car. I wreck my coin purse on the passenger side front seat, as I am not used to sitting on that side. The seat lovingly pinches my buttocks to remind me it still cares and will make it up to me later. The muscles in my face work into an approximation of what I believe to be a smile and I look over to see him adjusting the seat. "Damnit..I already regret this.", I think to myself. I had that seat just where I wanted it. Muscle memory instinctively makes Perturbed-Sadface, something I especially excel at. It is the 4th facial expression I've ever learned.

At this point, the seats are adjusted and I believe the worst to be over. I realize, not putting the handbrake up in his own car is the worst he can do today. He turns on the car. I was wrong.

The car goes into gear, and he starts slowly rolling. Forwards. Towards a wall. Ok, it was a curb, but a curb is just a short wall. This is not untrue. I say out loud "Reverse." The car still rolls forwards, slowly. "Reverse." Maybe he didn't hear me. "Reverse." Nope, something's not clicking here. "REVERSE." CRUNCH.

The car is taken out of gear, and the handbrake goes up (thank goodness). He drove the front of the car over a high curb in the parking space. Later, he claims he wanted to see if the SSP under panel was worth it, and if it lived up to the hype (verdict: It did, and everyone should buy one). Thankfully, my car has not been lowered for Summer height yet. He scraped the underside of the front bumper, black insert, and the under panel. Had it been an inch lower I would have a new bumper in a few days. Damnit.

The instant overly exaggerated ridicule begins, something you can't not do when around WraithX for some reason. It's a phenomenon, and it usually is caused by something like owning a silver Evo or driving my car into a short wall (ok, curb). A few minutes of inspection go by and we decide to head back. He feels pretty bad at this point.

"Just wait until he posts the story to the forum later!", instructs WraithY. Boy, is she right. High Five.

We make our way back down the highway to my house as uneventfully as possible. A poor downshift into second here, riding the clutch getting into the driveway there, nothing truly of note. The smell of clutch followed us down the driveway, as we parked and exited the vehicle in an orderly fashion. We exchange some more random discussion about cars, the engine bay, cars, turbo heat shields, cars, etc. as it is clear WraithY is impatient for her treat of Bubble Tea. I promise to her that the story will be posted to the forum and the best is yet to come. I know WraithX feels pretty bad but I reassure him he needs to relax, no harm was done. He tells me I can drive his car into a wall if it will make me feel better. It won't - it's silver and already looks like someone drove it into a wall. Mitsubishi paint FTL.

After some more quick ribbing and him explaining it went a lot better than he expected (wait - what did you expect if this was better?) we say our goodbyes (it takes thirty minutes) and WraithX and Y get in the silver Evo and buckle up. The car starts. The engine revs. It's not yet in gear.

"Oh, I was so used to your clutch engagement, I'm not used to mine anymore." is the quick excuse he has, poking his head out the window.

My new clutch engages almost at the top of the pedal range of motion, so it's quite obvious the car was just not in gear. At least it wasn't in 1st gear again. He would've driven straight into me and my house.

It was the icing on the cake, and the end to a beautiful afternoon, and most importantly the closing to a great story, I thought to myself. I sipped my coconut coffee, the tendrils of cream having smoothed out to a more Jupiter-esque cloudy swirl, and closed the garage door, busted my afternoon grump and began telling my tale.

There's really no good reason for it, The center curb was part of a landscaping piece that came halfway into the parking spot. Approaching from the back it looked as though there was no car in front, and I could just pull straight out of the spot.

Being that it was Dave's baby I was terrified of the idea of wrecking it, and opted to pull through the space instead of back out into a busy shopping center. When he told me to reverse, I thought it was because we were supposed to use the exit behind the Starbucks from whence we came.

Point is-- I fucked up and feel terrible about it. And I didn't miss any shifts.

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